You go along merrily year after year. You see your body changing. You watch your children becoming adults. They have their own children. You see your body changing even more. You notice that it's not as easy to carry your suitcase up and down the stairs in the subway. Of course you can still do it but there's a bit more huffing and puffing.
You're aware that the friends you went to school with all look like grandmothers. That's not a bad thing. The mirror is telling you that you look like a grandmother, too. Fifty-five and sixty come and go. Forget the outside changes, your heart still feels like singing.
Sixty-five arrives and by the world's standards you're declared a senior. That's fine. You accept your monthly pension, discounted movies and senior subway rates. So what, you say. Let them give me all these goodies, I still don't feel old.
And then you're seventy. And your two daughters say, 'This is a special birthday. This time we're going to leave the grandkids at home and treat you to a posh, evening out.' How perfect I thought. The five of us haven't been out together alone for a long, long time and I really love their company. What a great gift.
What they neglected to tell me was that there would be twelve other friends at the restaurant waiting to yell, SURPRISE!
Now I'm not a suspicious person but even if I were, my devious daughters left not the minutest clue in their wake as they planned the festivities in my honour. I guess I should have questioned why Erica picked me up exactly on time (she's always late) and why she called Leslie from the car asking if there was parking near this posh restaurant. In retrospect her phone call was simply the signal to her sister that she and 'GULLIBLE MOM' were almost there.
So I walked in totally unprepared for the shouts of SURPRISE! Flash bulbs popped, my heart pounded and dear friends who had travelled from out of town embraced me like only soul mates can.
Having so many people you love gathered in one room is birthday celebration enough. However it was only the beginning of the generosity I was gifted with that evening. Picture a long, formal banquet table with settings for seven people on either side. I sat flanked by my two daughters, facing a row of beautiful girls with grandmother's faces and listened to the ground rules for the evening. Each guest had been asked to prepare a 70 word toast in my honour and they came ready to take me and everybody else in that room on a trip down memory lane.
This was my YaYa Sisterhood from grade school, high school, college, and life. They knew all my secrets. They understood my frailties. They celebrated my strengths. They supported me when life knocked me down and whooped with delight when I had good news to impart.
On this 70th birthday we laughed together. We cried. We reminisced. My daughters yelled, 'Too much information' as one guest recalled the romantic New Year's Eve when I became pregnant with Erica.
I heard what my son-in-laws thought about me (thank goodness this was a toast and not a roast) and the many reasons my daughters love me (every mom should hear that once in her lifetime). And everything was recorded on the FLIP video camera that was my birthday present from my family. Can you think of a better souvenir?
I can't even begin to describe what I felt that night. The closest I can get is that I thought my heart would burst with the love I felt for all these people.
I listened as my accomplishments and my failures were paraded for all of us to laugh at now that the events were long past. I explained to my life long pals that looking back I honestly wouldn't change a thing in my life. And most of all I looked at my daughters who are my life's work and felt my heart bursting with pride at the women they've become.
And then it hit me. If I'm lucky enough to live until 90, that is only 20 birthdays away. That's only 20 more New Years Eves when I can call all these special people to wish them a Happy New Year. That's only 20 more years to see how my sweet grandchildren's lives will unfold.
So here I am at 70 and I must admit that this birthday is different from all the rest. This is the one that separates the women from the girls. Good-bye middle age. Good-bye mature woman. In the eyes of society I'm now officially old with a capital 'O.' Still I'm pretending not to notice and I'm thumbing my nose at society because no matter what anyone says, I'm still ready to play, I'm still not 'old-old', there still are mountains to climb, and I hope that the next 20 years go by very, very slowly.
P.S. So here I am again. It's March 15, 2011 and I'm now 71 years old (time flies when you're having fun;-). I need and want to thank everybody on Twitter and on Facebook for all your wonderful birthday wishes. Waking up this morning to so many happy messages shows me once again what a lucky woman I am. I value and appreciate your friendships and I'm grateful, indeed.
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